Justin and the Pending Ulcer
by pixileanin
Summary: Justin can't get a break, even in France.


Written for The Houses Competition, Year Two, Bonus Round 2

House: Hufflepuff

Year: 5th

Category: Bonus Story (400-800 words)

Theme: Summer

Prompts: **[Pet] Errol ; [Character] Justin Finch-Fletchley**

Wordcount: 676

Betas: Aya, Magi Silverwolf

 **Title: Justin Finch-Fletchley and the Pending Ulcer**

 **Summary: Justin can't get a break, even in France.**

* * *

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lazily sunning himself on the beach in France during his summer break. He'd only been away from Hogwarts for two days, and already he was starting to relax. School was stressing him out. Hogwarts, in particular, was stressing him out.

Hogwarts was school. That was the point. It was all together incredibly stressful.

This past year, he'd joined the underground group called "Dumbledore's Army". That, in itself, had been a risky idea, let alone, being a member. It had included sneaking around the castle (which gave him heartburn), learning spells that were now forbidden from being even mentioned around the professors (which caused his hair to thin… his father had thinning hair, and every day, Justin was looking in the mirror and _swearing_ that the top of his head was getting to be more and more like his father), and above all that, people that he knew had been getting caught and punished for simply associating with the lot of them.

It was a wonder he hadn't developed ulcers yet.

Oh, wait. Maybe he had an ulcer, and it just hadn't been diagnosed yet.

But, Justin argued with himself, a trip to St. Mungo's was going to cut in on his beach time in France, and that just wouldn't do. He hadn't even met any French girls to consort with. After the year he had, there was going to be consorting… and probably kissing… most likely consorting and kissing, if he could manage it.

He and his pending ulcer demanded it.

So there he was, on the beach, continuing to sun himself, and attempting not to worry about other maladies that might exist (because Merlin knew that he'd had enough worries in his life), when he saw something up in the sky.

' _What a curious bird,'_ he thought. ' _I've never seen one quite like that before.'_

As Justin watched the bird-shaped object glide closer and closer, he noticed that it wasn't quite as smoothly sailing with the oceanic winds as the graceful seagulls and the occasional albatross that he'd noticed earlier in the day. This particular bird, as it got closer, seemed to be blown off its trajectory a few times, and would frantically flap its wings this way and that, like one of those Muggle Weeble Wobbles, in mid-air. The whole scene was quite comical, until Justin realized where it was headed.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, _no_."

Justin leapt off his beach towel as the bird plummeted closer and closer to the shore. He tried to gather up his belongings and get away from the bird, who was appearing more and more familiar as it flew… no… fell awkwardly from the sky.

"Oh, no!" Justin exclaimed as the clumsy owl practically face-planted itself into Justin's chest.

"Ugh!"

Justin fell back into the sand and stared at the owl, who looked mostly-but-not-quite dead on top of him.

"What… oh… dear."

It was Errol, the Weasleys' owl. The poor thing must have flown for a day and a half to get to him. Justin tried to feel sorry for the half-deceased thing, but a very big part of him was too distraught at looking down at one of the things he had been trying to get away from.

He'd gone to a different country, and still, he couldn't escape it.

Attached to the bird's leg was a message. Justin laid as still as he could manage, and untied the message. It was from Hermione Granger, another member of Dumbledore's Army, detailing a summer meetup, where they would continue their training outside of school.

Oh. No.

Justin felt his insides clench. He felt his hair thinning on the spot. Maybe it was even falling out at that point.

And his stomach started to burn.

"I think I'm going to be sick!"

Justin Finch-Fletchley threw up on the sands of the French beach, just as two lovely local girls were passing by. They held their hands up to their mouths and ran from him, just as he looked up.

No consorting. And certainly no kissing.

"No!"


End file.
